


the best part of me (is you)

by lunapark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, chemist!Merlin, professor!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-23 23:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14343657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunapark/pseuds/lunapark
Summary: "Who's the brave soul that puts up with you?""He is the pride and joy of the university's chemical sciences department.""You're dating a chemist?""Indeed."Merlin smiles, heart doing little backflips in his chest. "Tell me about him."





	the best part of me (is you)

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first merthur fic I ever wrote—almost five years ago! And instead of wrapping up all the half-finished projects I've got lying around on my hard drive, of course I decided to be unproductive and just revisit and edit this... 
> 
> It's from the same AU 'verse as [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071420), but can easily be read as a stand-alone piece. :)
> 
>  **Warning** : fluff, a _lot_ of fluff.

** ••• **

 

Merlin wakes to the jarring sound of his alarm clock going off for the third time that morning. He makes a displeased sound and fumbles with it before hitting the snooze button, face pinched against the sunlight filtering through the blinds. The air chills his nose and the tips of his ears, and Merlin sinks deeper into the duvet, asking himself why the hell ever volunteered to teach an eight o'clock lab.

He's close to dozing off again when Arthur sidles up to him and snakes an arm around his waist, pulling him back flush against his chest. Merlin keeps his eyes closed and smiles into his pillow, then groans tiredly when his alarm goes off again.

Arthur reaches over and unplugs it before it goes sliding off the edge of the bed and falls to the rug with a soft _thud_. Merlin mumbles something about alarm clocks being the bane of his existence, and Arthur chuckles softly against his back, sounding annoyingly awake for someone at half past six in the morning.

"Good morning," Arthur murmurs, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Merlin shudders slightly at the touch. "What's so good about it?" he grunts, curling into his pillow.

Arthur laughs louder this time, a deep rumble that Merlin feels as much as he hears, and rubs his forehead against the back of Merlin's neck.

"You're wearing my old rugby jersey."

Merlin shrugs a shoulder as Arthur idly traces the golden lettering that reads **PENDRAGON** across his shoulder blades. 

"S'comfy," Merlin mumbles sleepily. _And you forgot to do the laundry so it was the only clean thing_ dies on Merlin's lips as he starts sinking back into sleep.

"Mmm." Arthur kisses the small space behind his ear. "I like you in my clothes," he says, fingers gliding over the soft material.

Merlin snorts into his pillow. "Funny, I thought you liked me better without clothes."

"That goes without saying." Arthur pinches the fabric between his fingers and rubs it. "But you look good in red."

"You've got some weird kinks, Pendragon."

Arthur uses the arm he has around Merlin's waist to roll him over easily, gently, until they're face to face, cold noses brushing. Merlin keeps his eyes closed, but Arthur's breath is warm and inviting against his lips.

"You're one to talk," Arthur says, nudging Merlin's cheek with his nose. "You look like you're ready to jump me every time I forget my contact lenses and have to wear my glasses instead."

"I'm sure the students in your econ lecture share my sentiments."

"Shut up, Merlin."

"You're obscene in those glasses and button-ups, you know."

"Yeah?" Arthur sounds entirely too smug and Merlin can actually hear him leering, the tosspot. "Am I your wet dream?"

"No, you're _shameless_."

Arthur doesn't argue the point as he begins rubbing gentle circles against Merlin's hip. "And yet, I'm still very much taken."

It's the soft way he says it that makes Merlin finally open his eyes. Next to him, Arthur's face breaks into a smile, slow and private, the corners of his eyes creasing; two years later and the sight still puts butterflies in Merlin's stomach.

"Who's the brave soul that puts up with you?"

"He is the pride and joy of the university's chemical sciences department."

"You're dating a chemist?"

"Indeed."

Merlin smiles, heart doing little backflips in his chest. "Tell me about him."

"Well..." Arthur purses his lips, considering. "He's an eco-friendly, organic vegetable loving nerd whose goal in life is to save the planet one bicycle ride at a time."

"Sounds noble to me."

"He is the living embodiment of Crysta from FernGully,” Arthur adds. “Without the tiny dress, sadly."

Merlin punches his arm. "I guess that makes you Zak."

Arthur crinkles his nose, displeased. "His mullet was atrocious."

"Are you quite done?"

"No. Just getting started, actually." Arthur clears his throat, and Merlin fights the urge to roll his eyes. “He hates coffee, but is more than slightly addicted to tea and mint chocolate fudge. Raspberries are his favorite fruit. Oh, and he just got his hair cut like some knockoff Wolverine."

Merlin rakes a hand through his hair. "That's not—"

"Did I mention he's a prototypical hipster?" Arthur interrupts, and Merlin throws an arm over his face and groans. "Because he is—listens to the most obscure bands whose names I can't be arsed to remember."

"Sorry it's not The Billboard Hot 100,” Merlin mutters.

"Wears plaid shirts, skinny jeans, scarves, the whole nine yards," Arthur goes on, unperturbed. "All his clothes are fair trade and made out of bamboo and hemp and other nonsynthetic shit. He even wears the oversized sweaters his mum knits him for the holidays."

"Better than dressing like a posh—"

"He gets annoyed when I overwork, but his laboratory is his second home. Sometimes I find him _sleeping_ in there like the pathetic grad student that he is.” Arthur sighs, melodramatic. “I'm convinced that if his own clumsiness doesn't kill him, the chemical fumes will."

"They will not!" Merlin protests. 

"I forgot to mention that he plays mother hen to a group of organic chemistry students to make sure they don't maim themselves. At eight in the morning, no less."

"As opposed to political science professors who have to lecture in a classroom with a projector that doesn't work half the time. Truly riveting," Merlin says, deadpan. Arthur opens his mouth to argue, but Merlin quickly adds, "And while we're on the subject, he is already late and has to get to his students."

Merlin moves to sit up, but Arthur brackets him in with his arms, unwilling, it seems, to let him go even after they've already wasted so much time.

" _Arthur_ ," Merlin whines, struggling against him. "C'mon, I've got to teach."

"I'm not finished,” Arthur tells him pointedly.

"Not finished doing what? _Insulting_ your boyfriend?"

Arthur smirks, a flash of teeth. "I guess I'll leave out the part about him being named after an old wizard, then."

Merlin scoffs. "Says the prat who has literally called his prick 'excalibur' on more than one occasion."

Arthur ignores him. "The first time I met him was when he stormed into my lecture and told me off in front of my students. Apparently, he was upset that I'd refused to let one of his chem students into my lecture when he was over fifteen minutes late.”

"You were being an ass," Merlin grumbles, "and speaking of late—"

"I couldn't decide if I was more pissed off or impressed by his nerve," Arthur says thoughtfully, warm hand sliding up to palm Merlin's ribs. "Or his ears."

"Fuck _off_.” 

"You know, he stopped by my office to apologize the next day," Arthur recalls, warm affection in his eyes. "Not because of what he said, but _how_ he said it—and, in his own words, 'not for showing you up in front of your students, because you deserved that.' I thought he was absolutely ridiculous. And then he gave me this too wide, crinkly-eyed smile and I thought to myself, 'You're fucked, Pendragon.'"

Merlin's face softens, remembering the back-and-forth banter that had started between them, ending only when Arthur had taken off his glasses to rub his eyes in the middle of Merlin's long-winded explanation of why he was both a chemist and an environmentalist. Arthur had looked at him with bleary eyes and waved a white napkin in surrender until Merlin had taken pity on him at last, inviting him out for coffee as a peace offering. Arthur had gotten two helpings of apple strudel, and Merlin had been too distracted by Arthur's slight cross-bite and strong jaw to finish his loaf cake.

"He's cheeky and talks too much"—Merlin frowns—"but he's thoughtful and modest, generous to a fault...and I suppose he's not too terrible looking, either."

"Yeah?"

"He's actually quite beautiful,” Arthur admits, earnest, and Merlin's heart soars. “Just don't tell him I told you. I'd never hear the end of it."

Merlin laughs softly. "Right."

"He is rather special." Arthur leans close to press his cold nose into Merlin's neck. "I'm a little bit lucky to have him. A _lot_ lucky, really."

Merlin touches his hair with gentle hands, his chest tight. "I think he's lucky to have you too."

He feels Arthur smile against his neck before he kisses there softly. Merlin makes a pleased little sound and rubs his thumbs along the length of his jaw, stubble prickling his skin. Arthur hums and peppers tiny kisses up along his neck to his chin to his cheek, and Merlin hides his smile into the pillow.

"Arthur," he sighs, heart in his throat, and buries just the tips of his fingers into Arthur's sleep-mussed hair, tipping his face up. Arthur looks at him, his face very close, and Merlin's eyes cross ridiculously.

"Idiot," Arthur says fondly.

"Yeah," Merlin agrees, and kisses him.

It's soft and sweet, just slow enough for the morning, all lazy touches and warm skin, and Merlin wishes they could do this for hours. With his research and thesis, it's hard finding time just for them. And when Merlin does manage to get back to their flat at a reasonable hour, he's usually too tired to do anything but watch Arthur grade and review his lesson plans before falling asleep on the couch. Merlin feels guilty about it constantly, especially when Arthur kisses his forehead good night while he’s already half-asleep.

But this, Merlin thinks, raising himself up on an elbow to better fit his mouth against Arthur's, is nice, a luxury that Merlin has missed. Their room is silent save for the soft sounds of their mouths, so it's easy pretend, if only for the moment, that there is nothing besides this, _them_ , wrapped up in each other and their warm cocoon of blankets.

Merlin is still half-asleep when he takes Arthur's top lip between his own and sucks on it gently. Later, Arthur will accuse him of starting it first and Merlin will kick his shin beneath the dining table, but right now, Arthur sighs against his mouth and grips Merlin a little tighter, pushing him back down against the mattress and hovering over him. They part just far enough for air and Merlin can feel the mood shift as Arthur's lips seek out his own again, as their kisses grow more heated and their hands find bare skin, and he knows where this is going if he doesn't stop it.

"Arthur," Merlin manages between kisses. He reaches between them to press his hand flat against Arthur's chest, and as the covers fall down, he belatedly realizes that Arthur is no longer wearing his sleep shirt.

"Ar—"

"Merlin," he mumbles against his lips, sounding irritated. "Shut _up_."

"Arthur, wait." He tips his face away, and when Arthur chases it with a frustrated grunt, Merlin pushes him back.

" _Arthur_ ," he tries again, more firmly this time.

Merlin misses the warm press of Arthur's mouth the instant he stops and pulls back to stare down at him, looking disgruntled. Arthur’s lips are bitten red and slightly swollen, and he looks so goddamn indecent that Merlin almost loses it right there. 

He rests his hand on Arthur's cheek and bumps their noses together. "I've got to go," he says regretfully.

"No, you don't,” Arthur says, as if it’s really that simple.

Merlin laughs a little, shaking his head. "Easy for you to say. You teach at noon."

"Merlin," Arthur sighs, and makes that _face_ , where he clenches his jaw and juts out his chin and it's not the least bit fair.

"Believe me, Arthur, I want nothing more than to snog you senseless." Merlin runs his thumb across Arthur's lower lip. "But I can't."

Arthur strokes the skin beneath the waistband of his boxers, his smile suggestive, predatory if Merlin didn't know any better. "I was hoping we could do more than just snog,” he says, low.

Merlin huffs breathlessly, trying not to squirm. "Yeah, I figured."

"You've got time."

"I'm already running late."

"Merlin," Arthur says in that matter-of-fact, professorly tone usually reserved for his students. "Instead of going outside, where it's cold and windy, and having to ride your bike all the way to campus to deal with incompetent undergraduates"—Merlin opens his mouth to protest, but Arthur shuts him up with a look—"wouldn't you much rather stay _here_?"

Arthur's eyes are very round, very blue, and just a little bit hopeful. Merlin's heart stumbles. 

"With me," Arthur is saying. “In bed.” He touches his lips to Merlin's throat. "Where it's nice and warm?"

"Somehow I think you care less about my own comfort and— _ah_ , fuck," Merlin gasps as Arthur gently bites down on the side of his neck, "more about me putting out, you horny bastard."

"Less talking," Arthur says roughly.

He leaves no room for argument when he swipes his tongue over Merlin's lips and then pushes past them, running the tip along the inside of his lips, the backs of his teeth teasingly. Their mouths taste stale, but it's wet and filthy and _good_ and, God, he's missed this. Merlin tugs on his hair hard enough that Arthur makes a choked sound and breaks the kiss, lips sliding down over his chin with just the edge of teeth as he starts palming Merlin's erection. His hand is deliciously warm and heavy and it takes everything Merlin has not to push his hips up into the friction. 

"Arthur," Merlin warns, breath hitching. And when Arthur starts sucking on the skin at the hollow of his throat, he forces out, reminding himself as much as Arthur, "I've— Shit, I've got a lab. To teach." 

"At eight o'clock."

"Yeah, but I've got to—" Arthur rolls him onto his back and swipes his tongue across the stubble on his throat. Merlin's hands fly up to grip to his shoulders instinctively, and as Arthur takes it as a cue to press closer, Merlin notices he's taken off more than just his shirt. 

Arthur is naked. Very naked.

Oh, hell.

"I've got to shower and get ready," Merlin protests, starting to feel like a broken record.

"Shower later," Arthur suggests casually.

"But showering—" Merlin bites back a groan as Arthur yanks down the neckline of the jersey and starts mouthing at a collarbone. "Showering helps wake me up."

At that, Arthur shifts so he's resting between Merlin's splayed legs and now Merlin can feel him, hard and heavy, against the thin material of his boxers.

"I think I've done a pretty good job of waking you up." Arthur rocks down against him slowly, deliberately, cock rubbing against the inside of Merlin's thigh, leaving his skin prickly hot and sticky. "Don't you think?"

"Pendragon," Merlin hisses, but doesn't push him away this time.

"Yeah," Arthur breathes, looking Merlin up and down with hungry eyes. " _Pendragon_." He runs his hands over the jersey greedily, bunching up the fabric as he goes before taking one of Merlin's earlobes between his teeth.

Merlin clutches at him harder, feeling what little resolve he has left crumble under the warm weight of Arthur's body.

"Imagine my surprise," Arthur breathes into his ear, "when I woke up to see you in my jersey. With my _name_ across your back." He tongues the sensitive spot behind Merlin's ear. "I was so fucking turned on." He punctuates each word with a dig of his hips down against Merlin’s, the friction at once too much and not nearly enough.

Merlin swears under his breath. He’s sweating now despite the chilly air, skin damp and flushed, fingers digging into Arthur's shoulders, unsure whether he means to pull him closer or shove him away.

Merlin is trying to work out the logistics of how he'd still be able to make it to lab on time when Arthur makes quick work of his  boxers and pushes their hips together, grinding down hard. Merlin knows he should be concerned that Arthur has literally seduced the pants off him, but he can't find it in himself to care when their cocks rub against each other; the slide is a little dry, just on the edge of being too sensitive and it's driving Merlin wild. To hell with the logistics, Merlin thinks, and throws his head back, moaning like he's being paid for it.

Arthur licks the side of his neck, tongue swiping over a bite mark that Merlin knows he'll have to cover up with a turtleneck and the collars of his lab coat. And maybe a scarf. 

"S'good, isn't it?" he asks, soft and husky. Merlin can hear Arthur smirk as much as he feels it bloom against his skin. "Think I can make you come just like this?”

And that is it. Merlin has had it with his arrogant, braggart  _ass_. 

"Maybe another time," he retorts, and when Arthur jerks back in surprise, he uses it as leverage to tumble him onto his back. Merlin throws a leg over Arthur's hips and straddles him, grinning triumphantly at the dazed way Arthur stares up at him. "Because I _know_ I can make you come like this.”

"How— Have you been lifting weights in your lab?"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Yes, Arthur," he sighs, “because nothing develops muscle quite like lifting bottles of acetone."

Arthur looks down at himself and mutters something about being out of shape. Merlin wants to slap him.

"Less talking," Merlin echoes, annoyed, and twists his hips against Arthur's broader ones, effectively shutting him up.

Merlin catalogs every reaction, from the way Arthur's eyes roll back as he sighs to the tensing of his strong thigh muscles beneath Merlin. No one else gets to see Arthur like this, completely unwound and half out of his mind with desire. Merlin dips down to suck a kiss to that sensitive junction between ear and jaw just because he can, because he is  the only one that gets to have Arthur like this, and it shoots an unexpected jolt of arousal through him.

He certainly does not have the time, but Merlin can't bring himself to move any faster, not yet. He wants to savor this, remember each hitch of Arthur's breath and every little noise he makes as their cocks press together, trapped between their stomachs. Merlin leans back just enough to pull off the jersey and throw it aside. Arthur looks up at him with half-lidded eyes, frowning.

"Should've—left it on," Arthur pants softly.

"Later," Merlin promises, taking their leaking pricks in hand and giving them a slow, teasing tug that has Arthur swearing up at the ceiling. "I want you to fuck me while I'm wearing it."

Arthur pushes his head back against the pillow, baring his throat and letting out a low groan, teeth clenched. " _Fuck_ , Merlin."

"Now you've got the idea," Merlin says with a breathless chuckle. Leaning in, he trails his lips up Arthur's neck and presses them to his ear, grinding his hips down against Arthur's slowly. "I want you to throw me over the sofa and fuck me so good and hard that I forget my own name. And then we're gonna do it again and _again_ —in the kitchen, over the dining table, up against the wall—'til your jersey is stained filthy with our come and we're both so raw you can't get it up for me anymore.”

Arthur stares up at him, mouth hanging open and pupils blown wide. "You fucking _tease_ ,” he chokes out.

Merlin smiles, cheeky. "Yeah, but you love it."

He expects Arthur to argue it or push him onto his back again and take charge, but what he isn't expecting is the way Arthur's face softens; and through the haze of arousal, Merlin notices that Arthur's eyes,  too, have gentled, the want in them subdued by a warmth that makes Merlin's heart swell in his chest.

Arthur fits his hands in the divots made by Merlin's hips, his smile breathtaking. 

"No, I love _you_."

Merlin doesn't think he'll ever get used to hearing that—and doesn't ever want to. 

Merlin thinks back to that moment he had barged into Arthur's lecture without preamble, still in his lab coat and goggles, fuming; and later, when they had reluctantly become friends, most of their conversations revolving around Merlin explaining that chemistry wasn't about "blowing shit up,” and Arthur trying to convince him that political science was actually interesting. It wasn't until they'd both ended up at the same karaoke night that they'd really hit it off, bonding over their mutual love of  eighties hard rock and drunkenly singing Bon Jovi's _You Give Love A Bad Name_ , complete with air guitar solos. Things became considerably less awkward after that. Comfortable, even. Familiar. Like the soft lines around Arthur's mouth whenever he'd smile at Merlin. Or the exasperated but unbearably fond way he'd say Merlin's name.

They became damn near inseparable, and for the better part of a year, had danced around the inevitable, pretending they didn't care about each other half as much as they actually did. Eventually, it had gotten so bad that Gwen began leaving him baked goods on his desk, Will started a tally count of how long it took them to get their heads out of their arses, and Freya took to petting his head like he was a homeless kitten, sighing, "Oh, Merlin, you're _pining_."

And Merlin really _had_ been pining, loathe as he was to admit it, because who knew if Arthur felt the same way, or if he just thought him a big-eared chemistry geek who loved the environment too much and couldn't wear matching socks for the life of him. So Merlin had sulked and Arthur had noticed, bugging him about it constantly with Merlin decidedly ignoring him. 

But it had all come to a head on an otherwise average Thursday night, when they'd been arguing over what to order for dinner and Arthur, unusually on edge, had suggested something sweet. Merlin had thought he was taking the piss, but apparently that'd been Pendragon code for _I'm going to kiss you now_ because the next thing Merlin knew, Arthur had pecked him on the lips, gentle and trembling. And Merlin had laughed giddily, freely for the first time in months and called Arthur a “hopeless four-eyed prat,” which just so happened to be Emrys code for _I'm going to snog you now_ , and that is precisely what they'd ended up doing on Merlin's tiny little sofa instead of having dinner.

Never in his wildest dreams had Merlin imagined it would ever come to this, Arthur flushed and gorgeous beneath him, smiling up at him with open, unguarded affection. The rush of tenderness that floods through Merlin is momentarily overwhelming, and he pauses to brush Arthur's hair off his forehead before bending down to catch Arthur's mouth with his own in a gentle kiss, so different from the heated ones they'd shared earlier.

"I've _loved_ you." Merlin kisses the words to his lips, a helpless confession. "Always."

Arthur winds an arm around his lower back, keeping Merlin stretched out on top of him, and they start rocking together again, easy and unhurried, like they've got all the time in the world. Merlin leaves Arthur's mouth to drag his lips over a collarbone, kiss the hard beating pulse point in his neck, panting softly. Arthur's cock jerks against his own, forcing a groan from them both, his hands moving to cup Merlin's arse, urging him to move harder, faster.

Merlin closes his eyes, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Arthur digs his fingers in, just this side of painful. It's a wonder they've lasted as long as they have, but now they're too close to the edge, and Merlin knows it by the way Arthur's breathing picks up, chest heaving and body tensing. They need this _now_. 

Merlin noses along his jaw to his ear. "Come on, Arthur," he breathes, grabbing one of Arthur's hands from his arse and tangling their fingers together. "Wanna feel you."

" _God_ , just— Kiss me again."

Merlin smiles against his temple before pulling back to press tiny, featherlight kisses to Arthur's lips, teasing him and making him wait for it, want it that much more.

Arthur is restless beneath him, eyes wild. " _Merlin_ ," he begs through a shuddering breath. _Begs_. "Please."

Merlin relents, opens his mouth against Arthur's and dips his tongue inside, lets them slide together in time with their thrusting bodies. Arthur squeezing his hand is the only warning Merlin gets before he spills over both their stomachs and Merlin's cock, head pushed back on the pillow and eyes squeezed shut, a hoarse moan ripped deep from his throat. 

Merlin tucks his face into the side of Arthur's neck, where his skin is sweaty and still smells like sleep and the faintest hint of his aftershave. Arthur surprises him when he takes their joined hands and wraps them around Merlin's aching cock, forming a tight sheath that Merlin pushes up and back into desperately. Arthur's release smooths the way for him, and that hot, slick feeling on his skin and all over his cock is what finally tips Merlin over, and he comes, sighing Arthur's name and spurting into the space between them.

Merlin sinks into him afterwards, feeling boneless and utterly spent, and listens to Arthur's heartbeat reset. When Arthur runs a hand through his sweaty hair, Merlin lifts his head with a dopey smile; they kiss until Merlin decides he really can't be any later than he already is and regretfully rolls off him. He reaches over and fishes Arthur's sleep shirt off the floor, using it to clean them off before things get crusty and disgusting.

"I sleep in that," Arthur protests tiredly.

"Yeah, well, half this mess is yours."

Arthur grunts noncommittally as Merlin swings his legs over the bed and grabs his phone off the nightstand. He groans miserably when he realizes just how late he really is, and he doesn't even want to look at himself in the mirror. He can only imagine how shagged out he's going to look to his students. 

"What are you doing?" Arthur asks curiously, sitting up.

"Going to text Freya," Merlin explains quickly, "and beg her to cover for me ‘til I get to lab. I'll probably have to buy her a box of those strawberry croissants she loves so much."

Arthur yawns and smacks his lips. "Breakfast sounds like a plan, actually."

"Unless you have to teach," Merlin grits out. "Your damn sex drive is going to get me sacked, Pendragon. At this rate, I'm gonna  have to start sleeping in the guest room on nights before I teach."

Arthur pouts, looking totally crushed at the prospect, and Merlin glares.

"Stop that."

"Merlin."

"Be quiet. I'm trying to come up with a good excuse to give her."

Arthur sighs. "But Merlin—"

"What if I tell her I forgot to set my alarm clock again?" Merlin suggests. "Twice in one week isn't too farfetched, right?" 

" _Mer_ lin," Arthur says emphatically, sitting up to put his hands on Merlin's shoulders and giving them a brief squeeze. "Wait."

Merlin shrugs him off. "I really don't have time for a second round."

Arthur flicks his ear, Merlin swatting his hand away. "That's not what I meant, you twit. Take a look at the date."

Merlin glances at him dubiously, but Arthur just raises his eyebrows, nodding towards his phone. “Okay," Merlin says slowly. "It's the tenth, but what does that have to do with anyth—"

"What _day_ is it?"

"Saturday," Merlin reads, irritated now. "Look, you've already made me late—" His words catch up with him. "Wait. Saturday?" 

"Yes," Arthur says wearily. "It's _Saturday_.”

Merlin fumbles with his phone and checks again. And again. "Saturday?" he repeats incredulously. "But— But I don't even set my alarm for the weekend..." 

Arthur is suspiciously quiet. Merlin puts two and two together.

"You!" Merlin gasps, dropping his phone in favor of pointing an accusing finger at Arthur, who looks unfazed. " _You_ set my alarm!”

"Purely by accident," Arthur says innocently.

"But why would you—" Merlin's eyes widen comically. “Oh God, don't tell me." Merlin scrubs his face over his hands, fighting off a flush. "Did you set up this whole stunt just so I could get up early and we could shag?"

"I mean, when you say it like that—"

Merlin shoves Arthur so hard he collapses back onto the bed with an “ _Oof_ ,” bed springs creaking loudly in protest.  

"Prat!" Merlin yells, and starts hitting Arthur with a pillow. "Ass! Tosspot!" When Arthur rolls away from his assault, Merlin changes tactics and covers Arthur's face with the pillow instead. "You conniving, pig-headed, spoiled—"

"I can't breathe," Arthur says, muffled. 

" _Good_.”  

"Merlin, come on."

Still grumbling, Merlin lets him go with a final hearty thump to the head. He sits cross-legged on their bed, arms folded defiantly over his chest, back turned to Arthur.

Arthur sits up and gently touches his shoulder. "Merlin..."

"I could have kept sleeping, you know," Merlin informs him critically. “We _both_ could still be sleeping. Do you know how fucking tired I am?”

"It was pretty fantastic sex, you have to admit."

Merlin does not admit it. Not visibly, anyway. "Next time, make do with your hand.” 

Arthur starts kissing just below his ear. "Oh, but you're _so_ much more fun," he breathes. 

"I hate you." 

Arthur hugs Merlin from behind, chin propped on his shoulder. "No, you don't,” he says, a smile in his voice. 

And when Arthur starts dropping kisses onto his shoulder, murmuring apologies into his skin, Merlin feels his anger start to melt away against his better judgement.

"Okay, fine, I don't," he admits grudgingly, fighting a smile. "But what you did was still underhanded and completely inappropriate. Juvenile, actually." 

"I really am sorry."

Merlin snorts. "You are _not_ sorry for the sex."

"All right, maybe not for the sex," Arthur acquiesces. He moves to lie back down and Merlin lets himself be pulled down onto Arthur's chest, too exhausted to put up a fuss and not really wanting to anyway. 

Arthur takes an inordinately long amount of time rearranging the covers over them both. Merlin would accuse him of stalling, but Arthur's forehead is pinched in thought as he settles back down, so he holds his tongue, waiting for Arthur to say whatever is on his mind.

"I missed you," Arthur says, by means of explanation.

_Oh_. 

There's a long pause. Merlin can respond to that in a lot of different ways, too serious or too unserious or otherwise. 

He chooses honest. 

"I missed you, too," Merlin admits, soft.

Arthur starts combing a hand through his hair, and it's warm and comfortable, but Merlin chews on his lip, considering.

"Come on then, speak up," Arthur rumbles quietly. 

"But I didn't say anything."

"I can _hear_ you thinking, Merlin."

"Oh... Well, I, uh..."

"Out with it," Arthur says, not unkindly.

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Merlin blurts. "I knows it's not fair that we don't get to spend time together like we used to and that our schedules don't match up like they should and that the only time we really get to see each other is right at bed or before I leave in the mornings and—"

Arthur shuts him up with a kiss. "You're as lovely as you are stupid, you know that?"

"I—" Merlin isn't sure whether to be flattered, offended, or both. "What?" 

"It's not your fault, you idiot," Arthur tells him, sincere in the way he says it. "We're two university instructors who happen to be in very different fields. I knew coming into this that it wasn't going to be a walk in the park, but I decided you were worth every bit of the extra effort." 

It's the most that Arthur has spoken about their relationship since—well, ever, and Merlin is more than a little surprised. Arthur is rarely so candid about these things, prefers showing rather than saying, using touch to say what words cannot, and Merlin is used to it by now, but this...

"I...don't know what to say," Merlin confesses, at a loss.

Arthur chuckles. "Have I actually managed to shut you up?"

"Yeah." Merlin laughs weakly. "I guess you have."

Arthur presses a kiss into his hair. "I mean it, you know. I wouldn't change a thing."

Merlin feels something twist deep in his chest, something that makes him slip a leg between each of Arthur's and drape himself over his bare chest, hand ovet his heart. Merlin presses his lips to the closest inch of skin he can find, just below his throat, then slides up until he reaches Arthur's mouth and kisses him slowly.

Arthur hums appreciatively. "Keep that up and there will definitely be a round two," he warns against his lips.

Merlin breaks the kiss with a laugh, but resettles against his chest. "You're impossible."

"As I recall, _you_ were the one who wanted me to throw you over the sofa and—"

"Okay, okay, point taken," Merlin interrupts, face burning at the memory.

"Merlin.” Arthur sounds like he's trying very hard not to laugh. “You're blushing."

"I am not!" 

"Christ," Arthur mutters. "You're like some sort of...sex kitten."

Merlin grimaces. "That's even worse than that 'sword in the stone' joke you made last month.” 

"Actually, I thought that one was rather clever." 

"That's because you're a prat."

"Ah, but would a prat make his boyfriend breakfast?"

Merlin's ears perk up at that. "In bed?" he suggests excitedly. 

"In bed," Arthur agrees, smiling. "I'll make those blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes you love so much. We still have just enough of Freya's boysenberry syrup left over.”

"Arthur, that would be... Wait.” Merlin pushes up on his elbows, eyeing Arthur warily. “You're just trying to butter me up so we can shag tonight, aren't you?"

Arthur closes his eyes, but the corner of his mouth gives a telltale twitch. "Go to sleep, Merlin."

"You're not denying it!"

" _Go to sleep, Merlin_."

Merlin gives up only because he's knackered and sleep is beginning to sound more appealing by the second. He fidgets with the blankets and rearranges Arthur's arm again and again until it's curled around him just the way he likes it. Merlin snuggles in closer and sighs, a pleased little sound. 

"Weirdo."

Merlin smiles sleepily. "Your weirdo," he corrects, yawning.

" _My_ weirdo," Arthur agrees warmly, and it's the last thing Merlin hears before he falls back asleep, dreaming of fluffy pancakes, lab experiments, and frustrating, incomparable, lovable prats.

 

 **•• **•****  

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the time I accidentally set my alarm for Saturday morning, woke up, thought I was late for class, and in the midst of frantically getting ready, belatedly realized it was the weekend, lol. Oh, and the Wolverine haircut = [Colin @ SDCC 2012](https://flic.kr/p/czX3vG), heeeeeeeeee. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! x


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